Zero Hour
by mossley
Summary: Sometimes, the hardest decision is accepting the consequences for things left undone. GSR of sorts. Post "Leave All The Rest Behind".


**Zero Hour  
Summary:** Sometimes, the hardest decision is accepting the consequences for things left undone. GSR of sorts.**  
A/N:** This takes place immediately after _Leave All the Rest Behind_. Thanks to VR Trakowski for the beta service; I claim any remaining mistakes as my own.**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Disclaimer:** If I had anything to do with this show, this episode never would have happened.

* * *

_The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward._ – Amelia Earhart

* * *

"Heather, would you stay?"

The strained request caused Heather to pause indecisively at the doorway, snapping her head around in surprise. The weakness was momentary, and composure settled over her features even as she closed the bedroom door and started crossing the room. Despite her outward mien, Grissom's words continued to rattle around her brain, threatening to break her carefully manicured discipline.

He didn't stir on the bed, and his eyes were still open when she moved to his side. His haggard, unfocused stare confirmed her suspicions; he wanted a physical connection, not a physical companion. She filed the information away carefully. wondering if he recognized the significance of it. Pulling a coverlet over his shoulders, she retrieved a chair from the corner of the room and moved it into his line of sight.

Sitting silently, she maintained an aura of control as his breathing slowly deepened and his features relaxed. Sleep eventually came, but she continued her vigil in case nightmares plagued him. Once Heather was certain his sleep was deep, she dropped her mask and frowned impatiently as she stared at him.

_Now what am I going to do with you?_

She continued to watch him indecisively, her ire rising at the unfamiliar emotion. She'd been less than pleased when he'd showed up at her home in the middle of the night, conveniently forgetting that she kept normal hours since selling the Domain. That emotion quickly morphed to professional consideration when he explained the reason for his visit, but it hadn't taken her long to realize he was using the case as an excuse.

But an excuse for what exactly?

He needed to talk, that much was certain, but he'd done little other than state the facts, avoiding the emotions behind them. Even her attempts to goad him had had no real effect. Sara's departure continued to eat at him, obviously, but there had to be some reason why he stayed behind. He certainly wasn't relieved that she had left, yet he wouldn't ease his pain by joining her.

Heather was an expert when it came to masochists, and Grissom didn't come close to fitting the profile. Martyrdom was an outside possibility, but even that seemed unlikely. Fear, anger, duty – potential reasons, she supposed. It was hard to judge; he was so troubled he was barely acting like himself.

It surprised her that he eagerly accepted her offer a guest room; it spoke volumes to his current state considering how much he guarded his privacy. His request for her to stay had been even more startling.

_Did it occur to you to ask that of Sara?_ she thought to herself, resisting the urge to voice her question. Even if he was awake, any answer he deigned to provide would evade the real issue, of that she was certain. He wasn't ready; their entire conversation the night before had demonstrated that.

Sara was the one who left Vegas, but it was Grissom who was running from the relationship. Why he was doing so still eluded her. He had seemed so happy with Sara, finally allowing himself to be loved and love in return. But now he acted almost detached from her departure, as if it was happening outside of his existence. He was a seeker of truth, but she sensed he was going out of his way to avoid it now.

There were many words she had to describe Grissom, not all of them favorable, but his behavior seemed odd even for a man afraid of letting others know him.

_Does his fear extend to being honest with himself? Is that why he is trying to move to acceptance without dealing with any of the intermediate stages? Self-truths are often the hardest to acknowledge. But that suggests an inner demon he wants to avoid, something about himself that he doesn't want to face._

Heather frowned again as she glanced at the bedside clock. Her first patients were already on their way, and she didn't have much time to make herself presentable. The remaining irritation generated by his waking her up in the middle of the night flared as she suppressed a yawn, but it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared; it never paid to let others doubt you were in complete control.

Standing up, she adjusted his covers and sighed. Grissom was lost. It was a feeling she knew too well, and he had been the one person to help her. Having her arrested had put a permanent damper on how close they'd ever get, but she owed him for helping her gain access to her granddaughter, and if nothing else, she always paid her debts.

The only question now was how to reach someone who insisted he neither wanted nor needed assistance. Grissom was a man used to dealing with things on his own, of handling things his own way as he sought answers.

A slow smile formed as she walked towards the door. He had done just that, hadn't he? She really didn't need to do much after all.

_There's more than one way to whip a boy into shape._

* * *

"Are you sleeping better?" she asked a couple days later when he came into the kitchen. Not that she had any doubt, but it was a safe opening. She had purposely avoided any talk of Sara or the reason he was sleeping in her guest room, letting him get the physical rest he needed before addressing his problems.

"Yes, thank you."

Heather watched him impassively as he fixed a cup of coffee. He'd already established a routine. Sleep here, drink coffee, some polite conversation, go get his dog and spend time in the park, return Hank to the sitter, go to work, return here in the morning to sleep again. She didn't think it was a coincidence that his schedule left little time for talking.

_He sets in his ways easily. How unsettled did a relationship make him? It can be trying for someone who _doesn't_ border on reclusive._

She passed the crossword puzzle across the table, accepting his smile with a gracious nod. Waiting until he pulled out his pen and starting filling in answers, she set down her tea and folded her hands on the tabletop. She knew it was only a matter of time before he returned home to stay. If she was going to make a move, it had to be soon.

The trouble was she wasn't certain yet what was the best approach to take. While she encouraged the notion that she could read people easily, the truth was her "gift" relied heavily on feedback from the person involved; she'd offer a general observation and use the person's reactions to gauge how accurate she'd been. The majority of people made it easy, but most of the time Grissom controlled his responses too well. That was telling in its own way, but it wasn't giving her the key she needed to get him to face his troubles.

_What the hell. It's not like he can retreat more than he already has._

"Catherine was shocked that you and Sara were together. She said no one had any idea that you two were a couple," she began innocently, smiling at his stunned expression. "I ran into her at the hospital when I came to see Sara after she was rescued from the desert. We talked."

"So that's why you came? Looking for information. I never suspected you were a gossip, Heather."

Her brow arched at his acid tones, not expecting such a reaction. Did he regret the fact that his relationship with Sara became public knowledge? He was an introvert, but still, his response was interesting.

"No. As I told you at the time, I was simply returning the favor. Sara treated me with respect and kindness when she processed me in the hospital after my _…_ troubles. Those are rare traits in your department."

She ignored his apologetic nod, sipping her tea and waiting until he felt the urge to break the silence. After a bit, she realized he was too familiar with the technique; he wasn't going to offer information to fill the void.

"I find it amusing that a building full of trained investigators never caught on to your relationship," she tried again, keeping her voice light and encouraging. "I thought your lab was supposed to be famous."

"It is. No one was looking for anything. And Sara did appreciate the gift basket you sent her," Grissom said softly, clearly attempting to make up for his gruff behavior earlier.

"I received her thank you card. It was sincere." When he made no move to continue the conversation, she added, "One thing I noticed after Sara was rescued was that none of the news reports mentioned her family. In my experience, that usually means either she had no family left or was completely alienated from them."

He gave a noncommittal roll of his shoulder, but his expression confirmed she was close to the truth.

"Neither situation is helpful for a person who is overcoming an ordeal."

"Sara's strong. She has friends."

"Really? None of them knew about your relationship."

"How is that relevant?" he asked sharply.

She regarded him calmly, inwardly surprised at how upset the conversation appeared to be making him. "If she wasn't comfortable talking about something positive, like being in love, do you think she'd have confided her fears to them?"

Years of self-discipline kept Heather from chuckling as he squirmed on his chair, looking like a nervous schoolboy about to ask a question he feared was stupid.

"Did you know that Sara and I were together?" he finally got out.

"Before my conversation with Catherine? I suspected."

"Suspected what exactly?"

"There was a clear tension when you entered my hospital room as Sara processed me."

"Oh. I see."

Heather smiled indulgently. "You sound disappointed."

Grissom shrugged, slouching into his chair and scratching out an incorrect answer on his crossword.

_Oh, the little clues even he lets show._

"I must admit that I wasn't exactly paying much attention to the emotions of those around me at the time. It wasn't until later that I began to consider the source of the tension," she answered him honestly. "Sexual was the most obvious answer."

"In my line of work, obvious answers are usually the wrong answers."

"You were in a purely platonic relationship?" she asked, making no attempt to hide her teasing and ignoring the stare he directed her way.

_Why is this a troubling topic? He's private, but it's not like I'm asking details of their private life at home…_

_Of course; it's that simple._

"How did Natalie know you were together?" Heather asked quietly, carefully noting the minute jerk of his hands.

"I'm not sure," he admitted eventually. "I know she went to a scene we processed together. The car she used to pin Sara came from there. I, well, I wasn't entirely professional that day."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I stroked Sara's arm when I took the camera bag from her."

"And you think Natalie deduced you and Sara were lovers from a single touch? I doubt that even I would have reached that conclusion so easily, and I'd rank my talents against anyone."

He shot her an annoyed look. "That's why I'm not sure. She has an eidetic memory."

"Which means she remembers clearly, not that she gains special insight."

"No, but it might have given her a clue to look for other, uh, behavior. She might have followed us to other scenes."

"Or home."

"Yes," he said, closing his eyes for a moment before he got up from his chair. "I need to get Hank."

Heather frowned as he crossed the room, debating whether to push the issue. Was he running to escape the conversation, or to escape the memories it dredged up? Avoidance was a dangerous path; wounds never healed properly if ignored, waiting to flare up again unexpectedly.

"Were you ashamed to be with Sara?" she asked, hoping the question would force him to talk. Direct action seemed the only way to counter his evasiveness.

"I resent that," he said angrily, his hands flexing as he paused at the door. His expression was dark when he turned to face her.

"More than you resent the fact that people knew you were together?" She leaned forward in her chair. "It's clear you would have preferred that it remain a secret."

"So?"

_So?_

"You found someone who loved you, who you loved. You kept that a secret from your friends and colleagues, people who would have been happy for both of you."

He gave her a patronizing look as he reached for the doorknob. "Women like to keep relationships quiet."

Heather stared at him in open astonishment. "Grissom, if that's been your experience, then you truly have my sympathy."

Her words caused him to jerk, and his mouth opened as he turned to her. A play of emotions crossed his face briefly before he muttered his good-bye and left. Heather leaned back in the chair, hands steepled under her chin. He was talking, if only for a short while.

A few more years like this and they might actually make some progress.

* * *

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Heather asked when he slipped in the backdoor early the next morning. "I told my personal chef to include food for two until further notice. A frittata is in the oven."

"You didn't have to go to that trouble," Grissom said, taking the cup of coffee she handed to him.

"Sticking a pre-made meal into an oven is hardly trouble. You are a guest in my home. Feeding you is part of the obligation."

"If you want me to leave, just say so. I don't want to be an obligation."

"My offer still stands," Heather countered smoothly. "You need a place where you can rest."

"I do appreciate it," he said honestly.

"Good. But I never intended my home to become a place for you to hide."

"The lab has my cell phone number if they need to reach me."

"Obtuse doesn't suit you, Grissom."

"I don't know what you expect me to say," he ground out after a moment. "I let someone in. She didn't want to stay. Things are just, just unsettled now."

"You're not accomplishing anything useful by avoiding the issues. Time can only heal if you admit the wound."

"Well, you know what Emerson has to say about time," Grissom began evasively, pausing when Heather gave him an impatient grunt.

"I'd say the words of Eric Cartman are more appropriate in your situation."

Pausing, he scrunched up his face in thought. "I'm not familiar with his work."

"He's a rather modern philosopher," she stated as she gathered the coffee tray and carried it to the table. "And in his immortal words, Grissom, 'Shit or get off the pot.'"

He set down his mug to fix a firm glare at her. "I recall telling you that you weren't my therapist."

She laughed as she sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Trust me, if you were my patient, you'd know it."

"I don't want to talk about it," Grissom said slowly, sinking into a chair and staring at his hands.

"Can I ask you a favor, as a friend?"

"It depends on the favor," he replied warily.

"Ask yourself one question: Why did you come to me?"

"You already _…_"

"Yes, I know, my home doesn't remind you of Sara. But there are innumerable hotels in the city. It's impossible that you've had a case at every one of them. There are house rentals, your friends, a vacation. You had other options. You chose to come to me, a person who you know is a student of human nature."

Grissom regarded her silently for a long moment. "You're suggesting I came to you because I want you to solve my problems?"

"That's just it. I don't have to."

"Heather, please, make your point."

"You are a criminalist for the same reason you are a scientist. You want the truth. It's what motivates you more than anything. Right now, more than you fully realize, you need that truth."

"Any specific truth in particular?" he asked after a long moment, weariness and sarcasm both evident in his voice.

Heather gave him a sharp look. "I thought we'd already established that obtuse doesn't suit you. You're free to leave my home at any time; you don't have to answer any questions I pose, or discuss anything that makes you uncomfortable. But you'll never be at rest until you face the truth about yourself and Sara's departure. We'll talk again tomorrow."

She quickly stood up and gracefully left the room before he had time to object, hoping she'd reached him. He _had_ come to her; he wanted help, if he'd just admit it to himself.

* * *

"Sara left me. What else is there?"

The suddenness of Grissom's outburst surprised Heather when he collapsed into a kitchen chair the next morning. He looked nearly as haggard as he had when he first showed up on her doorstep. Good – it meant he was beginning to ask himself the hard questions.

"Sara left you with a decision. You chose – you choose – to remain behind. Your suffering, in some way, is of your own making. There's nothing stopping you from going to her."

"It's not an option."

"Did she tell you that? She left you with a choice, and that's not the behavior of someone wanting to end a relationship."

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice tight when he spoke. "She's happy now. I'm not there. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

"Only if you have all the pieces."

"I'm really not in the mood for platitudes, Heather."

"And when have I ever spoken in platitudes?" she asked firmly.

"Then what pieces am I missing?" he barked. "I'm not in the mood for games, either."

"Have you considered that she needs you, that she needs support?"

_That got a reaction,_ she thought as his head snapped up.

"Where is Sara?"

He let out a sigh, his body shifting as if he was going to stand up and leave. "I told you. She joined Sea Shepherd."

"And that doesn't strike you as odd?" Heather asked.

"She likes animals, environmental issues. It's probably something calming for her."

"Interesting," she said, waiting quietly until he looked up at her.

"Why?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I got the impression Sara was bothered by violence."

"She is," Grissom said after a moment, his head tilted as he regarded her.

"Yet she joined an organization that is shunned by other activist environmentalist groups for their violent tactics. They try to sink other ships; they throw bottles of acid in the faces of fisherman. Is this really a group you think Sara would join?"

"I guess I never considered it," he said after a while. "She'd never do anything like that, though."

"But she is freely associating with people who wouldn't hesitate to maim or kill to support their goals."

He got up, his hands flexing as he walked around the room. "No, she doesn't support their methods. I know that for a fact. She'd work with them on research, or public outreach, but she'd never take part in the confrontations if there was a risk of hurting someone," he said firmly, running his hand through his hair. "But there were plenty of other environmental groups that don't use violence at all. Is she trying to make a break from law enforcement?"

"That's a possibility," she conceded. "Perhaps she has a friend in the organization. Or she didn't know about their more direct approaches. It was the first job she found. Maybe the rainforest appealed to her on some level. Or, right or wrong, the people she is with are willing to stand up for what they believe in, to act without fear of consequences."

Grissom didn't reply, but he slowed his pacing, gradually coming to a stop in front of his chair and folding into it.

"You said she was strong. Was it her nature or by necessity?" she asked.

He just shook his head.

"Being strong is admirable, but it's also exhausting. Even the strongest person needs to be able to have someone to lean on, or at least to know that person would be there for them if necessary."

"And you're saying I wasn't there for her."

"I didn't say that," she said, noting that it was the first thing he thought of. " But do you honestly believe she'd tell you if she wasn't doing well now? You think she's happy, but is she trying to convince both of you of that?"

"I wouldn't know how to begin answering that."

"Is there some reason you don't go to the source? I'm sure you have vacation time saved up."

"But if she is happy, away from here, from me, is going to her going to help or hurt? I missed the signs before. I don't want her to be hurt because of me again."

_Guilt? Interesting. A very powerful motivator – or hindrance. He didn't help her because he didn't realize she needed it until it was too late. Does he think she'll be better off without him now? It would explain why he hasn't followed her._

_And it's the worst damn thing for him to do._

Heather cocked her head at his admission. "You do understand why she left Las Vegas, don't you?"

"The first time she left me," he said, wincing at the trace of bitterness in his voice. "Burnout. What we deal with is deadening; it gets to you over time. I always knew it was going to catch up to her eventually, but I never thought it'd be so bad. And she needed to get away from _…_ everything."

"Everything?"

"What happened to her, with Natalie," he said. "I think it bothered her more than she let me know."

She nodded encouragingly, making sure to keep her body language relaxed.

"Do you know if the counseling sessions helped?"

He looked up in surprise, flushing slightly as he realized what he'd admitted. "Sara didn't go to any."

"What?!" Heather exclaimed, her control completely slipping. It was impossible to think Sara would have been left without professional help after her ordeal. "Shouldn't that have been mandatory?"

"She didn't want to talk to a counselor. She had to once, didn't think it helped," he answered with a shrug.

"She was tasered, kidnapped, drugged, pinned under a car, left for dead and nearly died from exposure. Did I leave anything out?" she said harshly. "And that doesn't warrant professional help? What did she do the first time to require it; murder a ward full of orphans and their blind puppies?"

Grissom dropped his gaze and watched his hands. "It doesn't really matter now, does it? She told me she didn't want to go, that she didn't need to. I didn't force the issue. I trusted her judgment."

"Do you really believe she lied to you?"

He shifted uneasily in his chair. "I don't know. No, no, I don't think so. Maybe to herself. Or to protect me."

"Protect you from what, exactly?"

"So I wouldn't feel guilty, that I wouldn't blame myself."

"You do, though, don't you?"

"It was my fault," he stated simply. "I missed the signs that she needed help. I didn't know how badly she was suffering. If it wasn't for me, she'd never had been kidnapped in the first place. Natalie used Sara to get to me."

"You really believe that was about you?" Heather asked, her head cocked in surprise.

Grissom stared at her in confusion. "Of course. Ernie Dell killed himself while I watched because my investigation was getting too close. Natalie blamed me for killing the only person who ever loved her. She wanted to take away the person I loved. That was the reason for it all."

"No, it wasn't."

He started to protest, but she leaned forward to grasp his hand. "What did Natalie tell Sara?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I thought the question was rather straightforward," she persisted. "If, as you propose, Natalie targeted Sara because of symmetry, then she identified with Sara. She wanted Sara to suffer the same way she was. Any suffering on your part was incidental."

He shook his head, unable to accept her idea. "She wanted to hurt me."

"Grissom, if that was all that Natalie wanted, she wouldn't have kept Sara alive."

"What do you mean?" he asked uneasily.

"Natalie was nothing if not meticulous. She planned every detail. She knew there would be a chance you'd be able to find Sara alive if she didn't kill her immediately," she said. "This went beyond simple revenge on you."

"Well, you know more about inflicting pain than I do." Grissom rubbed his hand over his face, clearly disturbed by the direction of conversation.

"Considerably more," she admitted honestly. "As long as you had a chance of a rescue – or if you found Sara's body – you would have had closure. With that comes healing. If she truly wanted you to suffer, she'd have left you wondering. She could have sent you a frozen finger or toe every year on the anniversary of the kidnapping, so you wouldn't know if she was still alive. Or an undated tape showing Sara being _…_"

"Stop!"

Heather nodded her acquiescence calmly. "I think you see my point now."

Grissom sat quietly for a long time, finally leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "It was touch-and-go when we got her back," he said in a weak, cracking voice. "The doctors couldn't get her electrolytes to balance. They didn't know if there was going to be permanent heart or kidney damage from the extreme dehydration. I, I was too happy when they said she was going to live, to recover, I didn't think _…_ I never considered that Natalie _…_ I, Ididn't know."

"Sara did. She didn't tell you. I'm tempted to say you were right earlier – she was trying to protect you. And in doing so, she paid the price. It was too much for her to handle on her own, but she didn't want to burden you."

"Or she didn't think I'd be able to help her," he said sadly.

"No, Grissom. Remember, she left you a choice. She wanted to you to join her. She loves you, and she isn't blaming you for what happened."

"She should."

"Why? Did you cause Natalie's mental illness? Would you be happier if Natalie had confused Catherine or Detective Curtis as your lover because she saw you with one of them at a crime scene?"

"Of course not, but …"

"It is a form of arrogance to assume that we are responsible for events out of our control. It's also a luxury Sara can't afford," she said, pleased when he adopted a calmer demeanor.

"I don't know if I'm still welcome. My staying away had to have hurt her. She might be tired of waiting for me."

"Sara went out of her way to let you know where she is. I'd wager you won't turn you away."

"But what do I do when I get there?"

"Now that does fall under my services as a sex therapist," Heather said teasingly, amused by his half-blush. "Be with her. Find out what she needs and try to offer it to her."

"I do have vacation time," he mused.

Sensing his hesitation, she leaned forward to rest a comforting hand on his arm. He'd faced his demons, he knew what he had to do, but it wasn't easy to change a lifetime of behavior. It wasn't his nature to be so direct, to drop his life's work, to take such an emotional risk.

"You'll never know if you don't try. Do you want that doubt to plague you for the rest of you life?"

He bobbed his head in a way that was neither affirmative nor negative before standing up. At the stairs, he paused and looked back. "I need to think this over."

"I have friends in many locations," she told him with a smile. "If your passport needs to be updated, I can expedite matters."

"It's fine," he said. "But thanks. For everything."

Leaning back in her chair, Heather allowed a self-satisfied smile to cross her features after he ascended the stairs. Grissom had made up his mind, even if he hadn't realized it yet.

_When I write my memoirs, that man is going to have chapters all to himself._

**The End**


End file.
